


The Spirit is Weak but the Flesh is Willing

by Dancains



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Pining, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancains/pseuds/Dancains
Summary: Oswald put a hand on top of Ed's where it lay on the sofa cushion between them. "Ed, that's fine. That's perfectly natural. You once said that you'd do anything for me, but I need you to know that the reverse is also true. I'm here for you, inanycapacity you may need me."Ed smiled despite himself, and the sad gratitude of it nearly broke Oswald. It made him feel even worse for what he was about to offer.





	The Spirit is Weak but the Flesh is Willing

**Author's Note:**

> For the Nygmobblepot Week Prompt "Hurt/Comfort"

As Oswald trailed down the staircase into the unlit depths of the mansion's first floor, it was no mystery to him where Ed has been lingering all evening. He only needed to follow the sound of some sappy 1960's heartthrob warbling about "long and lonely nights" over the creaking record player to find Ed in the sitting room, slumped over the length of the couch and half covered by a knit throw blanket. 

 Oswald flicked on the lamp near the door, and he saw Ed cringe at its faint illumination. Wet beads of tears were still in the corners of his eyes, and Ed hurriedly wiped them away at the sight of his friend standing in the doorway.

"Ed, would you mind if I sat down with you?" Oswald asked, making the words as tender as he could.

 He knew it was natural for Ed to mourn over his girlfriend's untimely death, even if he hadn't known her very long, but the fact that this new behavior had been going on for so long had been unforeseen by Oswald, and he struggled with how to cope with it himself. 

 Fate had gifted him a surprising act of serendipity when this Isabella woman had died in a freak car accident, caused not by his own hand but by a faulty mechanical part that was in need of a recall. It was the type of thing he had wished for, had almost put into action himself but decided not to--and now he regretted so much as the whim, seeing the reaction the whole situation had drawn from Ed. The only other time he had seen him nearly this distraught was when Oswald had visited him in Arkham.

 Ed nodded in answer to his request, pushing himself upright. Oswald couldn't help but have a treacherous thought about how appealing Ed looked like this, glasses set aside and hair rumpled, as he sat down next to him. He put a hand on Ed's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, hoping it was the right sort of platonic gesture for the situation. He was beginning to realize that he didn't have much experience with this sort of thing, even if he prided himself on his people skills.

 "Ed...I'm really worried about you. You have every right in the world to be upset, and to...express that in any way you need to, of course, but...this seems so unlike you. I just wish there was something I could do to help you."

 Ed finally returned his gaze, his voice catching slightly as he spoke, "Thank you, Oswald. I don't deserve a friend like you."

 Oswald could practically feel his heart wrenched from his chest. "Of course you do," he insisted, squeezing his shoulder even tighter and rubbing his thumb in circles against the fabric of Ed's shirt, "especially in a time like this."

 Unexpectedly, Ed pushed forward, wrapping his arms around Oswald in a bone-crushing hug. Oswald stiffened for a second in surprised before returning the hug, his hand making comforting up-and-down sweeps against Ed's back. 

 He tried to focus only on consoling him, being an anchor for Ed's sake, but he couldn't help but think about how good it felt to be so close to him, especially with the side of Ed's face pressed to his, and Ed's chin digging into his shoulder. 

 They sat there together for a long moment in the near darkness, and Oswald listened intently to Ed's gradually slowed breathing. He imagined he could feel Ed's heart beating in his chest, now calm and relaxed against his own frenzied palpitations.

 When Ed finally pulled away he looked embarrassed, not quite meeting Oswald's eyes. He shuffled on the couch slightly, creating just a bit more space between the both of them than there had been before.

 "I'm sorry for being so clingy," murmured Ed, "I suppose I've just been so...touch-starved...ever since she-"

 Oswald put a hand on top of Ed's where it lay on the sofa cushion between them. "Ed, that's fine. That's perfectly natural. You once said that you'd do anything for me, but I need you to know that the reverse is also true. I'm here for you, in any capacity you may need me."

 Ed smiled despite himself, and the sad gratitude of it nearly broke Oswald. It made him feel even worse for what he was about to offer. 

 "Maybe you need something to distract yourself," he told Ed, "at least for a little while."

 Ed looked as if he was seriously contemplating the idea. "I think you're right. That's something you could probably help me with."

 As far as Oswald knew, Ed was imagining them practicing some benign hobby together, like playing a video game or putting together an intricate jigsaw puzzle. Oswald was imagining something quite different.

 "Well," Oswald paused, making a show of looking unsure, "I can certainly think of one way that I might distract myself when I'm feeling upset. But it's not usually something one does for a friend...not that it can't be. I suppose I wouldn't be too bothered..."

 "Oswald," Ed licked his lips, "you're going to have to elaborate on just exactly what you mean."

 "Never mind," Oswald said hurriedly, "You probably wouldn't actually want--"

 "What was it you were going to suggest?"

 Oswald knew that what he was about to do could possibly ruin his only friendship, but something in his mind was screaming at him not to relent. 

 "Just a little..." Oswald carefully laid a hand on Ed's thigh--not too high, but high enough to make his intentions abundantly clear, "physical stress relief." 

 Ed inhaled heavily throw his nose, his eyes wide in apparent understanding.  _"Oh."_

 The word hung heavily in the air between them.

 Oswald drew his hand away.

 "Well, I--" Ed stuttered, "I mean, not that I don't--you shouldn't have to do that for me Oswald, it's below you."

"Suit yourself, Ed, but I would do _anything_ for a friend like you. And it's much more of a distraction when someone's doing it for you," Oswald added, despite having never been touched intimately by another person in his life, "but maybe it was odd of me to even suggest...I suppose I'll leave you now to--"

 Ed grabbed his arm as he made to get up off the sofa. "Wait," he pleaded.

 "Yes, Ed?" Oswald answered innocently. He wasn't going to make it easy on him, he wanted to hear Ed say it.

 "I want you to-" Ed wouldn't look up from where he was now fiddling with his hands.

 "Yes?"

 "I want you to help me...please." His words were barely above a whisper. When he met Oswald's gaze, his eyes were filled with a quiet desperation.

 Close enough, Oswald thought to himself. He'd be lying if he had said he'd never fantasized about Ed begging for his touch, begging Oswald for release.  _God, I am a horrible, horrible man,_ Oswald mused.

 He nodded, and without any preamble, lowered his hands and began unbuckling Ed's belt. A sharp gasp was wrenched from Ed's throat, but he said nothing in protest. Oswald methodically pulled the belt from its loops and set it aside, as for it to not get in the way, as well as to make Ed more comfortable.

 Doing his best to keep his expression indifferent, he pressed the heal of his hand to the front of Ed's slacks, curiously trying to gauge the size of Ed's flaccid member through the fabric. Ed let out another half-choked noise, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back onto the sofa cushions.

 "Shh," Oswald murmured, "Good, just close your eyes and think about whatever you want."

 Ed nodded jerkily, his eyes still shut tight. Oswald could feel him hardening through his slacks as he continued to stroke him. It abhorred him to think that Ed was probably imagining a woman's soft, manicured hand--her hand--instead of Oswald's, but the thought wasn't nearly painful enough to make him stop.

 The vinyl record still played on in the background as he continued, the only sound besides the whisper of skin on fabric and Ed's hitching breath. _"I want to be your lover...but your friend is all I'll stay...I'm only halfway to paradise...So near, yet so far away,"_ wailed the singer, as if personally mocking Oswald's plight.

 Spurned on by his own frustration, he used his other hand to unzip Ed's slacks. Ed spread his legs to give him better access--probably involuntarily--his thigh now pressed flush against Oswald's. Oswald could feel Ed's leg trembling, as he murmured something under his breath, so incoherent that Oswald couldn't decipher it.

 Ed groaned as Oswald cupped him properly through his thin briefs, teasing the head of Ed's cock with his thumb where there was already a wet bead of pre-come staining the cotton. Oswald could see his tightened grip, knuckles white against the back of the sofa. He squeezed him, exploringly, astounded by just how deliciously thick Ed felt in his grasp now that he was fully hard.

 He suddenly pulled his hand away--and was met with a loud, frustrated exhale from Ed-- to lick a wet stripe across the palm of his own hand. In one swift motion, he tugged the waistband of Ed's briefs down and wrapped his wetted hand around the base of Ed's cock. Ed instantly let out a loud whimper, the pitch higher than Oswald might have imagined (and Oswald had certainly imagined this before). Ed's hips jerked instinctively into each tight, quick pump of Oswald's fist. It had certainly been a while since Ed had done anything like this, Oswald hypothesized. 

 He was more than half-hard himself, thinking of how there was no way Ed could possibly imagine any woman's touch now; his own hand was large and calloused and undeniably male, and it was easily bringing Ed closer to climax with each practiced stroke. He reveled in the knowledge of it, deciding that even if he was never given the opportunity to touch Ed like this again, he'd still have this small victory to look back upon, to conjure up in his mind on long, lonely nights in his room. 

 As methodically as Ed himself might have preformed the task, Oswald tried to record all of Ed's reactions to memory, from each unbidden gasp, to the twitch and bob of his Adam's apple, along with the single bead of sweat that trickled down the flat of his pale cheek. Ed looked _beautiful_ \--there was no other way Oswald could describe him.

 Without warning, Ed leaned in towards him, wrapping his arms tightly around Oswald in an echo of their earlier hug. He buried his head against Oswald's shoulder, clinging to him as if holding on for dear life. The sudden movement upset the rhythm of his hand on Ed's cock, but Oswald picked up the pace again as quickly as he could. 

Ed whimpered, the sound muffled by the wool of Oswald's suit.

 Oswald decided that if he had died in that moment, he would have died a happy and content man. The desperate press of Ed's body against his was nearly enough to push himself over the edge.

Almost as if sensing this, Ed began to come, hot and wet into Oswald's hand, his whole body shuddering violently. Oswald's free hand clenched the back of his shirt, anchoring him while he rode out the waves of sensation. Half-smothered but still unmistakable, Ed cried out Oswald's name against his shoulder. Oswald froze.

 He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Ed shivering and panting against him. Gradually Ed pulled away, mortification written across his features. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at Oswald's face.

 Wet stripes of come were stuck to both of their shirt fronts, as well as dripping from Oswald's heated fingers. The highly visible tent in his trousers hadn't subdued in the slightest, and there was no way Ed hadn't noticed it. For a second, Oswald didn't know what to do. The plan in his head had never gotten this far. 

 Making a swift decision to play it cool, or as cool as he was able, he pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and calmly wiped his hand clean. He pressed the mostly-unsoiled cloth into one of Ed's twitching palms, as if for him to clean himself up as well. Ed blinked at him, hazy and glassy eyed.

 Oswald stood, and adjusted his clothes the best he could despite the obvious evidence of their transgression splattered across his shirt and waistcoat.

 "I do hope that helped, Ed, at least to some degree." He patted Ed companionably on the shoulder, as if they had just finished a relaxing game of chess instead of Oswald having just vigorously jerked him off. "I believe I'm going to retire for the evening."

 He didn't look back as he left the room, his final glance of Ed's spent and disheveled state already burned into his mind like a red hot poker.

 From behind him, he heard a faint, stuttering, "Thank you...Oswald," as he passed through the door.

 Mechanically, he made his way upstairs to his room, locked the door behind him, and flicked on the hot water in the en-suit bathroom's spacious shower. As he stood under the stinging heat of it and wrapped a hand around himself, he hoped in vain that the water and steam would clean the guilt from his conscience. 

**Author's Note:**

> ((I chose to make this an AU where Oswald didn't kill her because I felt like that would change the context of this scene/Oswald would have been taking advantage of Ed if he had ))
> 
> Also, if anyone's curious, both songs mentioned are by Bobby Vinton, and the second is called "Halfway to Paradise". His song "Blue on Blue" totally fits the mood as well. Am I capable of writing anything without mentioning sappy 60's pop music? Nope!


End file.
